


Meeting for Business

by Mossgreen



Series: 2770 ab urbe condita [4]
Category: 2770 ab urbe condita - Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ass to Mouth, Cock Warming, Dildos, Humiliation, M/M, Master/Slave, Public Display of Affection, Public Humiliation, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 07:25:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mossgreen/pseuds/Mossgreen
Summary: Master takes Ven along to a business meeting to be useful. Ven does his best.





	Meeting for Business

Ven knew the importance of obeying the rules in Master's villa. Obeying them whilst outside Master's villa was even more important, for he was a product of his master's training, and representative, in his own way, of his master's business – even though his master neither sold slaves nor trained them professionally. 

He kept the requisite three paces behind his master, his head down submissively, though not so far down as to lose sight of Master among the crowds in the Forum. He considered himself fortunate not to be made to wear a slave collar, like some others he could see, but his posture and the shortness of his tunic (the hem was several inches above the knee) were enough to proclaim his status anyway. 

They arrived at the building that served as the Headquarters of Master's business. It was a large imposing stone building with a colonnade, standing across the Forum from the basilica which housed the law-courts and the bankers. The girl behind the reception desk informed Master that the conference room was ready for them, and gave Ven a very pretty smile, despite the fact that she was free and he was a slave. 

Today was a standard business meeting and not a demonstration, thankfully. (So many of the videos Master had filmed of him to put online were demonstrations, of either some product or other of his company, or of Ven himself, and he had been brought here before for similar demonstrations that had not been filmed.) It was bound to be a totally boring meeting of facts and figures and yet more discussion of a merger that had seemed to take all year (the discussion, that was), when it should have been cleared up six months before.

Ven put down the bag he was carrying and withdrew Master's laptop, notebook, pen and pencil, laying them out neatly in front of the chair at the head of the table, then put the bag on the floor.

“Bend over the table,” Master told him, sounding almost bored. Ven would have been insulted, if slaves could be insulted and if he didn't know that the boredom was more likely to be due to the prospect of this meeting than anything attributable to Ven himself. Ven had been a slave all his life and knew that he could not take offence over every little thing, especially when he knew he was regarded merely as _instrumentum vocale_ , a tool with a voice. There were whole books on the subject; Master even had some of them.

They had not shut the door, and Ven wished he had thought to push it until it was ajar, at least, rather than leaving it wide open, but it was too late now, and Master didn't seem of a mind to want to close the door. Master lifted the back of Ven's tunic, tucking it into the rope he wore around his waist as a belt, gave his bared arse a hard slap and then pulled out the dildo that had been inside him all morning. He set it upright on the table in front of Ven's face, between him and the open door. It was a long one, although not the longest thing Ven had ever taken, with a curve to it, modelled realistically as anything of that size could be, in black silicone, with a pair of balls at the base that prevented it from sinking deeper into Ven than he or his Master would wish.

Ven barely had time to draw a breath after the dildo was withdrawn before his Master's cock replaced it, sinking deep into his body in one smooth glide.

He could hear voices, comments from outside – they had seen the dildo on the table and knew where it had been, and were shocked or surprised, or something of that sort, at its size. Though, really, they shouldn't have been; this might not be where such things were manufactured, but they were in the same building where it, and toys like it, as well as half or more of the furniture in Master's training room, were designed.

Master was thrusting into him hard, deliberately so, and Ven could not help but push back, encouraging him, wanting more, only for his master's hands to grip his hips, holding him still and only allowing him to have precisely as much as Master wanted to give him.

“You can demonstrate your cock-sucking skills on that dildo,” Master said after a moment. Ven no longer found himself to be disgusted by the thought of putting something in his mouth that had just been up his arse, it happened so often now. His arse was clean, he was cleaned out down there every morning before anything was inserted into him, but there was still a brief hesitation before he picked it up. 

“Lick the head,” Master directed, as though he were not thrusting in and out of Ven like a pubescent boy.

Ven did so, tasting lube, his own warmth and the rubbery taste inherent in its being a false penis. 

“Now put the head in your mouth and seal your lips around it,” Master continued. “Flatten your tongue against it and push it in, further.” 

Master deliberately aimed for the spot inside Ven that made him see sparks just as he obeyed that order, and the muffled moan of pleasure he gave must have looked as though it had resulted from deep-throating the dildo, judging by the sudden chatter at the door.

Ven practised his skills on the dildo, as much as he could, finally feeling his master flood his arse with his come, whereupon the dildo was unceremoniously pulled from his mouth and pushed back into his arse as his master's softening cock withdrew from it.

“Clean me,” Master told him, sitting down in his chair and indicating the floor in front of him as he spread his knees. 

Ven dropped to the floor and crawled to kneel before his master, carefully burrowing under his master's tunic to find his cock.

“Stay there,” Master said, once Ven was done and had moved to kneel back. “Keeping my cock warm will give your mouth something useful to do.”

“Yes, Master,” Ven replied, moving forward to take Master's prick back into his mouth. 

It had been too much to hope that Master would be sitting far enough back in his chair that Ven could rest his chin on the seat of it. He was going to make this far harder than it needed to be, deliberately – or, more likely, thoughtlessly. After all, Master had never needed to warm a cock for the whole duration of a very long (and pointless) meeting, had he.

Master's foot shifted, nudging at Ven's knees. The slave rolled his eyes (safe in the knowledge that he couldn't be seen doing so, under Master's tunic) and spread his knees wider, allowing Master's feet to rest between them, close to Ven's harnessed prick.

Ven's concentration was broken as Master stood, pulling his cock from Ven's mouth and his tunic from over Ven's head. There were others in the room now, and Master greeted them all before sitting again. A foot nudging against him was all the instruction he required to burrow back under Master's tunic and resume his previous position. 

He could see very little, under the cool linen of Master's tunic. The tight dark curls at the base of Master's cock and the very lower part of his stomach. His nose was full of Master's smell, and his mouth full of Master's taste. The mosaic of the office floor was harsh beneath his knees; one tile hadn't been laid quite flat and the edge was digging ever so slightly into his skin. The sound of voices was indistinct above him. It was enough to make him begin to drowse off, but he could not allow that to happen because it would change the angle of his head and Master would notice, even if Ven's teeth did not scrape him. 

Actually, the voices weren't as indistinct as Ven had thought, once he began to try to make out what they were saying. They were at an impasse over something – which Ven already knew – but it became clear to him, as he continued to listen, how it could be broken. He raised a finger, and paused. Master might listen to him, and he might not. If he did not choose to listen, well, that would not be Ven's fault. But if he did... If he did not like Ven's idea, he need not follow it, for one. If he really did not like Ven's idea, he might be whipped. He could be whipped anyway, of course, if he displeased Master, so that was hardly a risk. But then, he _might_ listen, and he _might_ follow it, and it might work, and that surely was worth risking his master's ire.

He tapped his master's ankle twice, gently but unmistakeably before resuming position. Master paused briefly in talking before continuing what he was saying.

It had been worth the attempt, Ven thought, swallowing. The motion of his mouth was chastised by a firm but not painful smack to the back of his head, but then a few minutes later, just when he was beginning to think Master did not care to know why his slave wanted his attention, he heard Master call for a break, although he did not stir as everyone else headed for the door.

Master put a hand on Ven's shoulder to keep him still and scooted his chair back, his prick slipping from Ven's mouth. “What, boy, is so important that it cannot wait until after I have finished?” 

Ven looked down. “There may be a solution – if I may speak, Master?”

He was rewarded with an impatient flap of one hand. “I should like to know what a slave can suggest that his betters have not already thought of.”

“If I may be permitted some... paper, Master. And a pencil,” Ven said, trying to look respectful.

He was passed them, his master wearing a look that Ven translated as 'let's indulge the ignorant slave', and bent to scribble for a moment, trying to make his idea clear on paper.

“I am sorry, Master, that you will not like the first part,” he said carefully, as he passed the notebook back. “But you are playing a longer game in the end, and it must come right because he... because he does not see so far ahead as you do, yet, Master.”

Ven bit his lip at his master's expression. He did not look pleased at the concessions Ven had suggested he make at first, but he carried on reading, down to the conclusion that he would end up by taking over the other business, in its entirety, eventually.

“Why will this happen?” Master asked him, suddenly curious to know Ven's logic.

“Master, you and he both think that they are the most valuable part of the business – and you are right. But they have no value – or rather, they have much less value – without the retail centres, although intrinsically the stores are worth far less on their own. If you... if you settle for this lesser thing now, Master, you will either end up with the greater anyway, or he will end up going out of business entirely and closing them down. And you will win either way, Master.”

“I see.” 

Ven risked a look up at his master's face; he hadn't sounded angry, and nor did he look it. He looked thoughtful, in fact. 

Master didn't even look up from Ven's scribbled notes as he added, “Go and fetch me a cup of coffee – the coffee point is just around the corner.” 

“Yes, Master.” Ven edged out from under the table, crossing to the door, and belatedly reached to pull the skirt of his tunic back down. 

“No, leave that as it is. But, Ven? You may get yourself a hot chocolate. And walk when you come back in, none of this ridiculous shuffling on the knees.”

“Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.”

For some reason, it was more humiliating to have his bare arse exposed to his master's employees – free people – than to be completely unclothed in front of his fellow slaves. Perhaps because his fellow slaves could likewise be told to strip, or perhaps it was because he was otherwise clothed, even if the tunic was shorter than a free man's.

Of course having his tunic pulled up so revealingly was bound to invite comments, and naturally nobody bothered to make sure the slave couldn't hear those comments.

“What a pretty bum. I wouldn't mind ramming my cock into that!”

"Mmm. I agree - and did you see the size of the dildo he's got in it at the moment?"

He wasn't altogether surprised when somebody copped a feel, a squeeze that wasn't rough enough to mark him. It was rather typical of his master, he thought, to do something nice for him on the one hand, while reminding him that he was still a slave, on the other. He suddenly didn't think he wanted to know what the response was going to be for his master's even listening to his suggestion – he really didn't think he wanted to know what his master was going to end up doing to him if his suggestion was followed and had the happy results Ven had predicted.

But he had crossed the Rubicon and made the suggestion and the results were out of his control now. As was pretty much anything else. 

He took the two drinks, still thinking. 

It was not as though he hated his master, despite everything he had done so far. There was a slightly cruel sadistic streak to him, which did worry Ven; naturally, slaves had no recourse to anything their masters chose to do to them, or with them. Even the threat of passing Ven around like a party favour didn't exactly scare him, much. There was a part of him that was excited by the prospect of such a thing – a part that Ven had admittedly not examined closely before now, but he was sure that his master, however sadistic he was, was not so cruel as to maim or permanently injure his slaves, or allow anyone else to do so. He was too careful of his money, investments and property for that, after all – anyone who saw Master's villa with all its pretty fragile things would realise he would be most unlikely to wish to damage a slave.

He set Master's coffee down on the table, careful not to spill it, although Master didn't look up from his notes, to which he was adding notations of his own. He merely untucked Ven's tunic from his belt, allowing him to straighten his clothing up and then indicated, wordlessly, the floor beside his chair. Ven knelt, his eyes down as the room began filling again with people returning from their break. 

He had not been allowed a treat like hot chocolate in a long time, and enjoyed every last drop of its sweetness. And then he felt the slight weight of his master's hand on his head as Master began tenderly carding his fingers through Ven's hair. He sighed noiselessly, leaned his head against Master's leg and let the sounds of the continued discussion flow over him.


End file.
